Revelation from a Resolution

2006 was truly my year of enlightenment.
I directed myself away from reality television to dedicate more time to reading and writing.
(I allowed the escape of Poker, i should note)
For the most part, the two legs of my enlightenment worked great together:
The more I read - the more I wrote [and vice versa].

The writing side of my enlightenment began to grow out of my control in the last quarter of the year. More people were finding this blog and providing me with great encouragement. The scales of reading and writing were not in balance. I began to think I was becoming a good writer.

Thankfully, here came Jeffrey Eugenides:


Sometime between 2 or 3 am this morning I realized I will never be a writer. No matter how many more coworkers say, "You're talents are wasted here." No matter how many more times a family member says, "Tom - you're creative - I need your help with this."
I know I can not make a living writing.

This is because I had fallen into the trap that is named "Middlesex."
"Middlesex" is the greatest work of literature I have ever read in my life.
It may not be my most favorite book I've ever read - but in my opinion it is the best written.

I woke up yesterday (Dec. 30) on page 291 of the 527-page novel. For an addictive reader as myself, it was not a good sign that I had over a month invested in this novel and had only gotten to roughly past halfway. With the exception of "The DiVinci Code" this book was the most widely read between my friends and coworkers. Each wanting to know where I was in the book, and what I thought of it. I told them that I had no idea why it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, and didn't quite get a hold of what was in the mix. I think every one of them knew I was about to fall into the trap. No one bothered to provide a nudge to keep me reading. Somehow they all knew.

Especially one of my best friends (and most avid reader I know) had to refrain from a reaction when he saw me struggle through the first quarter of the book in the airport. He liked the fact I had chosen such an epic to close out my 12 books in 12 months goal.

Back to why I can't be a writer, and why Eugenides is so good:
"Middlesex" is narrated by a hermaphrodite living as a man through the eyes of a childhood raised as a girl. From what I can tell in a short bio I read of him, Eugenides was neither raised as a girl or is a hermaphrodite. Sometime before 3 am this morning I realized that I'm only able to write as a 27 year old single guy. And pretty soon, I'll only be able to write as a 28 year old single guy.

At 5:28 am I finished "Middlesex." I gain intrinsic knowledge from HOW i read books. In the three day Easter weekend I had started and finished the alcohol love affair that was "Smashed." I endured a 3 month pursuit of Selby's "Last Exit To Brooklyn." I made short, expedient, and a near robot efficiency quick read of "Attention. Deficit. Disorder."

"Middlesex" was read much like "Positively Fifth Street." (which makes harmony in my conscience because P5S was the first of the 12 read this year). Each had struggling beginnings but out of nowhere gained a momentum that refused to be stopped. P5S was finished while home sick from work, at the end of a 4 hour marathon session of reading. Whereas the early parts of P5S were never brought back into focus when complete - "Middlesex" was as clear as crystal when I turned the page to find blankness staring back on the nonexistent page 530. The 11 p.m. - 5:30 am reading stretch was a new personal best.

I woke up 6 or so hours later completely refreshed, the near-full*** comprehension of an American Epic with multiple angles of view from the same source spanning multiple generations in two continents. While I had a pause before 3 am on how Eugenides put in my amateur place - I write this 12 hours later wanting to get better. Not because of him, not because of whoever reads this... but for me.

Special thanks to my fellow associate Traci, for loaning me her copy of Middlesex. I'm happy to be able to return it in the same condition. (The 12 books in 12 months did have one casualty - the busted spine of Last Exit To Brooklyn was given back to it's owner on life support)

***I want to expand on my near-full comprehension of this work. Please let me know if you have read "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides so we can discuss it. Even better, start reading it now and let me know when you're done.

Happy New Year everybody. Thanks for helping this year become a page turner (and if you didn't expect a lazy pun, you need to realize who you're reading... an amateur).


READ

Revelation from a Resolution

2006 was truly my year of enlightenment.
I directed myself away from reality television to dedicate more time to reading and writing.
(I allowed the escape of Poker, i should note)
For the most part, the two legs of my enlightenment worked great together:
The more I read - the more I wrote [and vice versa].

The writing side of my enlightenment began to grow out of my control in the last quarter of the year. More people were finding this blog and providing me with great encouragement. The scales of reading and writing were not in balance. I began to think I was becoming a good writer.

Thankfully, here came Jeffrey Eugenides:


Sometime between 2 or 3 am this morning I realized I will never be a writer. No matter how many more coworkers say, "You're talents are wasted here." No matter how many more times a family member says, "Tom - you're creative - I need your help with this."
I know I can not make a living writing.

This is because I had fallen into the trap that is named "Middlesex."
"Middlesex" is the greatest work of literature I have ever read in my life.
It may not be my most favorite book I've ever read - but in my opinion it is the best written.

I woke up yesterday (Dec. 30) on page 291 of the 527-page novel. For an addictive reader as myself, it was not a good sign that I had over a month invested in this novel and had only gotten to roughly past halfway. With the exception of "The DiVinci Code" this book was the most widely read between my friends and coworkers. Each wanting to know where I was in the book, and what I thought of it. I told them that I had no idea why it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, and didn't quite get a hold of what was in the mix. I think every one of them knew I was about to fall into the trap. No one bothered to provide a nudge to keep me reading. Somehow they all knew.

Especially one of my best friends (and most avid reader I know) had to refrain from a reaction when he saw me struggle through the first quarter of the book in the airport. He liked the fact I had chosen such an epic to close out my 12 books in 12 months goal.

Back to why I can't be a writer, and why Eugenides is so good:
"Middlesex" is narrated by a hermaphrodite living as a man through the eyes of a childhood raised as a girl. From what I can tell in a short bio I read of him, Eugenides was neither raised as a girl or is a hermaphrodite. Sometime before 3 am this morning I realized that I'm only able to write as a 27 year old single guy. And pretty soon, I'll only be able to write as a 28 year old single guy.

At 5:28 am I finished "Middlesex." I gain intrinsic knowledge from HOW i read books. In the three day Easter weekend I had started and finished the alcohol love affair that was "Smashed." I endured a 3 month pursuit of Selby's "Last Exit To Brooklyn." I made short, expedient, and a near robot efficiency quick read of "Attention. Deficit. Disorder."

"Middlesex" was read much like "Positively Fifth Street." (which makes harmony in my conscience because P5S was the first of the 12 read this year). Each had struggling beginnings but out of nowhere gained a momentum that refused to be stopped. P5S was finished while home sick from work, at the end of a 4 hour marathon session of reading. Whereas the early parts of P5S were never brought back into focus when complete - "Middlesex" was as clear as crystal when I turned the page to find blankness staring back on the nonexistent page 530. The 11 p.m. - 5:30 am reading stretch was a new personal best.

I woke up 6 or so hours later completely refreshed, the near-full*** comprehension of an American Epic with multiple angles of view from the same source spanning multiple generations in two continents. While I had a pause before 3 am on how Eugenides put in my amateur place - I write this 12 hours later wanting to get better. Not because of him, not because of whoever reads this... but for me.

Special thanks to my fellow associate Traci, for loaning me her copy of Middlesex. I'm happy to be able to return it in the same condition. (The 12 books in 12 months did have one casualty - the busted spine of Last Exit To Brooklyn was given back to it's owner on life support)

***I want to expand on my near-full comprehension of this work. Please let me know if you have read "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides so we can discuss it. Even better, start reading it now and let me know when you're done.

Happy New Year everybody. Thanks for helping this year become a page turner (and if you didn't expect a lazy pun, you need to realize who you're reading... an amateur).


READ

Blog will return soon

The lack of posting is due to a mad dash to the finish of my "finishing 12 books in 12 months" resolution... Less than 72 hours and less than 300 pages left...

By the way, I found out recently that I was named Time Person of the Year (remind me to fire my publicist - nobody should discover that honor while waiting in line at Borders).


Parting Shot:
Screw you NFL! Why are you throwing a curveball at my New Year's Eve plans?

Blog will return soon

The lack of posting is due to a mad dash to the finish of my "finishing 12 books in 12 months" resolution... Less than 72 hours and less than 300 pages left...

By the way, I found out recently that I was named Time Person of the Year (remind me to fire my publicist - nobody should discover that honor while waiting in line at Borders).


Parting Shot:
Screw you NFL! Why are you throwing a curveball at my New Year's Eve plans?

2006's VEGASTORY

PROLOUGE: Vegas Vignettes
For the most part, I have gone against the What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas cliché, only to advance my personal What Happens To Me in Vegas Should be Boasted to All Those Who Do Not Go to Vegas.

Sadly, there is very little to boast about from my most recent 4 day / 3 night romp in Las Vegas. The following are the true tales of grinding through a vacation that never met its potential told in nine acts:

ACT I: Landing with a Loss
On paper it looked perfect – the first flight out to Las Vegas will not only have a smaller chance of getting delayed, but also will get us out there quicker. However, we failed to deduce that we would have to wake up at 5 am and get a ride from my Father through the cold dark morning. However, my Dad loves these trips to O'Hare, and the only thing more upbeat than the Smooth Jazz on the radio was his demeanor.

The flight was smooth and painless (not an omen). However, getting there as early as we did prevented us from checking into our room. That didn't faze us – we were looking ahead to the Marquette versus a better-ranked Wisconsin College Basketball game about to tip off in about one hour. I knew it would be a very tough game for my alma mater. Regardless that it was at home, Wisconsin has had our number the past few years. All this reasonable data did not stop me from my heart fueled loyalty and pride.

Since our bags were being held for hostage (a.k.a. ransom) at Caesar's we decided to bet and watch the game there. Although the game was shown on the big screen, the seats and angle weren't the best – which led us to watch the game at Shadows (it's one of the many bars at Caesars). Watching your favorite team get soundly out played in each aspect to the game is not easier to watch when pounded with Fergie singles and Janet / Kanye collaborations.

Not in Vegas 3 hours and I'm down (there's the omen), but refuse to be out.

ACT II: High Highlight
No question, the best part – and thus most memorable – aspect of this vacation was the room we stayed in up on the 31st floor of the new Augustus Tower at Caesar's Palace. The main room – featuring a nicer couch than at my condo – was also larger than my Des Plaines residence. The bathroom – larger than my bedroom back in D.P. – was all marble with a whirlpool and a flat screen TV. Oh, did I mention the larger flat screen in the main room? Best of all was when I walked over to the window, wanting to know what the view would be and did a theatrical double arm swinging of the curtains.

A bright sunny day with the Paris Hotel at my 10 o'clock, The Belllagio at 2 o'clock and the famous water fountains straight ahead. I instantly forgot about the MU loss… I only wished we had watched the game there instead of Shadows.

ACT III: Scene at Spago
Personally, I am not in a position or relation to tell this act. All I am comfortable reporting was that my friend's family took us out to dinner at Spago, and my Meatloaf was wonderful. It was a risky play, but hey I was in Vegas to gamble. Why is meatloaf a risky play? Because my Father swears that you only have meatloaf at home or if somebody trustworthy recommended it you.

ACT IV: Cowboy Carnival
I should not have been surprised.  I have been getting emails from Treasure Island touting itself as the official home for the National Rodeo Finals. I never put two and two together that I was going to be in Las Vegas that same weekend.

Later than night we went to the Hard Rock Casino. It was a casino I have not been to previously, and thinking it's off strip location would give us a better chance of a Saturday Night $5 blackjack or craps table. We were wrong.

Hard Rock was filled with cowboys. Wearing cowboy hats. I heard frequent discussion about the rodeo. I could not care less. All I cared about is that my face card and nine was going to lose no matter what to that exposed King.

ACT V: Football Fever, Football Frenzy, Football Fatigue
I secure our seats at the Bellagio Sports Book well before 9 am local time. It was really the only thing I did right. It was pretty cool with all the televisions gearing up for football. Everyone was buzzing about what lines were better than others. I confidently made all my picks as parlays .. not wanting to make straight bets for less than even money.

Quickly, I realized that I was in over my head. With more than 6 games going on at once, and money basically on every one of them, I did not know what to watch. I could only pick a team and wait until a large crowd reaction (of which there were many) forced me to change perspectives. And every time you had a TD score that hurt your bet .. you were forced to watch it replayed for every single game. I must have watched Maurice Jones-Drew score 12 touchdowns last Sunday.

I had to leave before the morning games finished. I couldn't handle the overload and constant reminders of my poor football analysis.

I went directly to the poker "room" at Paris. I played exactly one hand. I then ate exactly one chicken quesadilla from the Chipotle about 9 blocks away. I do not think I have to tell you how the hand went. I just wanted a free refill.

All the cowboys in town pushed the Dallas Cowboys to a 7.5 point favorite. Even though it was too many points for that team, even at home, I wanted to root for the Saints without a monetary investment on the line. I wanted to enjoy football for being football..

We watched it from the flat screen on the 31st floor. I have no regrets about that sad fact.

ACT VI: Stranger Scorn
Determined to find $5 tables after the Sunday Night Football game, we went to a vast array of Casinos for the first time. Barbary Coast, O'Shea's, Flamingo, Imperial Palace and Harrah's are places I will not be eager to visit again. Besides the absolute lack of sanity with everything involved with Imperial Palace, and the man who I watched win 7 straight hands of Casino War at Harrah's, the story of this act is what happened at the $5 blackjack table at O'Shea's.

I pride myself at being nice to strangers. It is one of the biggest sources of my random stories and I knew I would need to have a conversation with one to have a good story to tell post trip. However, I didn't feel it would happen the way it did at O'Shea's.

One man, we will call him CUBS HAT because that is what he was wearing asked me where I was from. I told him Chicago and continued betting. Someone else said "Go Bears" and I replied "Yeah." That's the end of the story as far as I am concerned. I just was not in the mood to enter into a conversation with them. I have probably been in better moods that day (that pre-Chipotle No Limit Poker hand still on my mind and all).

About an hour later my friend asked me if I realized how cold I was to CUBS HAT and company? I had zero clue. Supposedly my friend has never seen me act as cold and standoffish in as long as he's known me, "without outright insulting anybody." It made me laugh and almost want to go back and try to prove my stranger friendliness. But mainly, I was shocked. I guess I gave CUBS HAT a look when saying "Chicago" that meant to say – if you ask me one follow up question I will gut you with a switchblade. Seemingly worse, my lack of Chicago Bear enthusiasm was a final straw to the table at large. Heaven forbid that I didn't want to talk about Ditka and sing Bear Down for them.

I asked my friend why he did not say anything while my rudeness was playing out. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "What was I supposed to say? Sorry, my friend doesn't usually act like a prick."

After walking through The Mirage to conjure up some Minor Setback! Memories, we headed back to Caesars… Only to hear behind us a young girl saying, "We weren't doing that well but it was really fun at the table – everybody wanted to know where we were from and everything!"

ACT VII: Tournament TQ
At this point, I was done with blackjack. Done with craps, and probably done with sports betting. I should even stay away from cash game poker! This entire trip was earned through excellent poker tournament play – and that's what I should do. I walked over to Treasure Island and came in 7th out of 25. WAY out of the money. I was pissed, but encouraged that I might be on the right track. I was eager for my next tournament but wanted to get my ass over to the Wynn Property to meet my friend (who had spent the day golfing) for some Chicago Bear Football.

It was during the Chicago game when we met the best character of the trip, but let me finish this thread with the last tournament report:

Getting back to the room at about 12:30 AM, I called the poker room from the room phone and found out that the midnight tournament was already under way, but I could still buy-in. I hustled my ass down there and got seated at Table #24. I knew this had to be a good sign. The first three hands I played ended up as full houses either doubling me up or knocking somebody out. I made it to the final two tables (field of 70+) but couldn't help but getting blinded out after doubling the same North Dakota bartender twice. I played for over 3 hours in that tournament and loved every minute of it.

ACT VIII:Local Lush
I don't think it is fair to mention the name of the man we met in the Sports Book of the Wynn Property… But let's just say that many people in the mid-80s, who loved oil-fortune based Television drama, wondered a whole summer about who shot him.

So this guy was probably my age. Maybe a year or so older but not a day over 30 was dressed very well. It wasn't the lack of jeans, but the cuff links that gave it away. This guy was also drinking some serious light brown liquor.

Wanting to re-establish my ability to talk to strangers I made sure to let him know what happened during the Bear game while he was getting a refill. The following is what I learned about my new acquaintance:
-Previously worked underwriting the dome stadium holding the Monday Night game
-Currently working for a larger financial group
-Born and raised in Las Vegas
-Spent a night in jail.

What?

Yes, I was telling him how I was getting killed at the Caesar's Poker Room (this is before the tournament mentioned prior) in cash games. He told me he got black listed from that poker room and long story short – spent the night in jail.

"Have you ever been in jail?" he asked me. "It's not good." he told me.

He got the charges expunged from his record. Thankfully he didn't have to call his clients and tell them that, "Hey, I've been charged with federal larceny."

My friend asked him for a stock tip. He instantly talked about how great the Wynn was doing – which by the way has concreted it standing as the best property in all of Las Vegas – but then told us about a small chemical company. "If you've got ten thousand dollars laying around – throw it there."

I couldn't help but burst out laughing, losing any illusion my well-dressed self may have presented to him, saying, "look buddy, I don't have ten thousand dollars to throw anywhere!"

He later took a phone call on his cell phone – and I pleaded to him (for his safety) to get the hell out of the book before they start mocking him over the speaker. He returned a few minutes later and took off shaking both our hands.

Good luck my stranger, hope you stay out of federal prison.

ACT IX: Leaving Lost
All I knew is that I was going to get my ass to In-N-Out Burger, period. I have wanted a burger there ever since I first saw The Big Lebowski. Not seeing myself in Southern California any time soon, Las Vegas remains my best option. I was denied my last time out to Las Vegas.

We all thought that it was near the Rio Hotel and Casino. We waited a half hour to take a shuttle bus there. We finally got to Rio and were told that the burger joint was MILES away. We still went into the Rio, but couldn't find a table cheap enough. We were wrong in every aspect of our venture.

After an extremely long cab ride, punctuating our failure, I enjoyed my Double-Double and bought a T-Shirt because I thought I deserved it. We walked 8 blocks back to the strip and played one last game of (losing) craps at the Monte Carlo.

Tipping the bell person for what seemed like the fourth time and riding in the last cab to the airport were uneventful.

Jack Bauer Under the Mistletoe

Tomorrow, Tuesday December 5, the fifth season of television's best show is released on Digital Video Disc.


I recommend instantly placing these discs on your NetFlix queue. I whole-heartedly insist that if you have not even seen the show - watch the first season as soon as you can. Need a good Christmas gift? Buy the first season (only $24 I believe) for someone who would appreciate great television.

Before the start of season five I complied a list of my 24 favorite characters in the show's (at the time) four year run:
Rank
Character (Season)
Comment / Memorable Moment
24
Chloe O'Brien (3, 4)
After an initial season (3) that wouldn't land her in the top 50, her great interplay with Edgar vaults her to 24. Memorable moment is when she offers a listening ear to Jack if he wants to talk about how his day is going.
23
Paranoid Y2K nut that lived in the log cabin (2)
Made the entire "Kim caught in a cougar trap" less pointless by offering up his shower to Kim - producing a memorable scene
22
Kate Warner's sister (2)
The evil blonde beauty... Memorable scene is a tie between killing her broken-hearted fiancée and "negotiating" with the manager to get into a locker at an auto garage.
21
Season one white palmer aide (1)
Who? The girl that who was used by the blonde Bosnian Drazen to get close to Palmer. I give her credit for going undercover to play the playboy - but got carried away and stabbed the poor hunky assassin.
20
Agent Baker (1,2,3)
Most underappreciated character in the series history. He is the top field agent (the actor is now on Lost as the Korean man) who was always the best tactical CTU agent... Jack requested his help in season two's airport, he ran with Chase to try to intercept Saunders in season three and the fact that he hasn't been killed in action shows how skilled he is!
19
Milo (1)
Came in to help out when Jaime was caught / died / killed.. would help only if he'd get a pay raise.
18
"Kevin Carol" / "Alan York" ~aliases (1)
Jack Bauer driving the limo with him in the backseat with a deceased Serbian Banker is my favorite scene of the entire series, period... Jack's immortal, "Where's my wife?" line is met with a full clip unloaded into the bulletproof divider - Jack;s expression remains unchanged throughout!
17
Lynn Creskie - Palmer White House aide (2)
Getting locked in a closet by Mike Novic, having to set a fire to escape, and eventually falling down a stairwell. Oh my, when you type it like that what an odd subplot
16
Woman Terrorist who slept with the Air Force pilot, then impersonated an FBI Agent (4)
Was a key part in the best start to finish episode in the show's four year history.
15
Kate Warner (2)
Best acting in the craft's history when keeping the same puzzled aloof expression constantly... always regretted how her "romance" with Bauer was never fully referenced.
14
Jaime (1)
Historical first of many CTU moles
13
Israeli Consulate (2)
When the rednecks beat him up after the nuke went off, it made me feel horrible to be an American... (Black comedy redneck line later in the episode when Kate Warner only had Euros in her home safe, "Do I look European?")
12
Guiel (2)
Pivotal in Jack's undercover operation, took the ultimate sacrifice, but his widow wife really soured at the end of season 3. (bonus points for the fake-mole angle when he tied up Kim to a chair for multiple episodes)
11
Michelle Dessler
Escaping from Saunders (in s3) was an awesome feat, and to realize she had to be recaptured was even better.
10
Alex Saunders (3)
A well played evil persona that had the great link back to Operation Nightfall.
9
Habib Marwan (4)
The best villain the show..s ever had.. the only one to truly be able to go toe to toe with CTU for more than half a season.
8
David Palmer
Best scene: Rejecting all the resignations at the end of season two.
7
Tony Almeda
His "I'm baaaaack" in season 4 was spectacular - right down to pouring the beer in his Cubs mug from season one
6
Nina Myers
I'm glad she's finally dead, but she was oh such the catching and fetching international triple agent!
5
Mandy (1,2,4)
No, correction - MANDY is the best professional terrorist for hire - and she got off scott free with a pardon! Her naked desert scene after she blew up the plane wasn't her best scene, but she gets honorable mention for showing dedication to the role
4
Chase Edmunds (3)
Let's give this guy a hand for a job well done... no seriously.
3
Ira Gaines (1)
His end was such a cataclysmic bomb on the show, the next few episodes struggled to keep the show afloat. Only because Marwan had the longevity is his role of best villain ever in doubt.
2
George Mason (1,2)
I actually wanted to put George at ..1. I liked him that much. The best source of comedy and best one liners in the show's history. Bonus points for marrying Sarah "Nina" Clarke in the off season after season one - Man, I miss George.
1
Jack
Jack, if I could marry your daughter, I'd want to change MY NAME instead!

Bonding with the Garbage Man

As I realize my "sawed off shotgun" of a broom is still back at my parents house, I use my Rawlings mitt to clear the snow off my car...

"Don't go out there" says the man operating the garbage truck, while the crane lifts the dumpster into the back.

"Really?" I sheepishly respond.

"Don't go out there, it's not worth it, stay in." He talks not in a blowhard voice stereotypical of a civil servant, but in the Father Knows Best way of advice.

My reply of, "I don't have a choice." gains instant rapport.

"Yeah, me too... The garbage never stops."

It never does my snow bound stranger garbage man. It never does.

Please Act Your Age

Say what you will about Carson Daly...
Many despise him, credit him for ruining MTV with TRL. However, we all know the demise of the network was some 15+ years ago when a small cancer named The Real World started the beginning of the end for Music Television.

I've lately grown more respect for Daly because he got OUT. I like to theorize that sometime after he left Tara Reid in his rearview mirror and before questioning the integrity of endless WOOOOs at the prospect of a bad cell phone connection phone call with a one hit wonder in the making he knew he had outgrown his life. Daly is rarely, if ever, on the network that made him famous and has carved out a late evening hole for himself on NBC. Bothering nobody, just those that want to tune in and watch whatever "Last Call" transmits.

The same can not be said for John Norris:

Why are you still at MTV John? Do you think you are making a difference? Do you think it keeps you cool? Please don't tell me you were ever cool to anybody. Chris Connolly got out and is a somewhat respected journalist for ABC/ESPN/ETC. You can at least parlay your experience into a Tell-All book or as a featured writer in Rolling Stone.

I saw you on MTV last night hyping up World Aids Day. I can feel your sincerity. Truly, you want to make a positive difference. You can't do it on MTV. Young kids will not vote. they will not buy a condom. And I doubt they can hear you in their non cell phone attached ear.

Take your message elsewhere. How about joining Dan Rather on Mark Cuban's network effort? Now that's surely hip enough for you? Good Luck John.

Thank You Notes (My Mother Raised Me Better)

Growing up, writing Thank You Notes was a huge deal.
Very large huge big deal.
Our [late] Grandmother would rat out any and all grandchildren who did not write her a thank you note promptly after the holidays. Sometimes I even would ask Grandmother outright, "thank you, thank you a lot. Do I still have to write you a thank you note?" She'd respond with a "(chuckles)Oh no dear." Only to bust my ungrateful ass weeks later.

Recently, I've gotten many "gifts" as I warm my condo. And sadly, not a note has gone out yet.

[With the exception of two (whom address are not yet known) they are all written and in a stamped envelope for mail first thing Monday morning.]

To all gift givers to my past and in my future:
A thousand thank yous upon you, upon your house, and upon your decendants.

Posting To Motivate

In January I made the New Year's resolution to finish 12 books in 12 months:
1. Positively Fifth Street
2. The DaVinci Code
The Tipping Point (quit)
3. Smashed
4. Attention. Deficit. Disorder.
5. A Clockwork Orange
6. Death by Strip Mall
7. The Ice Storm
8. Bringing Down the House
Catch 22 (quit)
9. Last Exit To Brooklyn
10. Kick Me: Tales of Adolescence
11. Superstud: Or How I Became a 24 Year Old Virgin
Middlesex (in progress)

I'm 500 pages away from completing my goal (with Middlesex). With just a little over a month left, it's well within reach. However, certain enemies like Digital Cable and John Madden are tough foes.

Next year's (working) reading goal:
Re-read books that I enjoyed the first time around. Will a more mature TQ find more depth?

Christmas Music Time!

I love Christmas Music!
However, if it's played anytime before Thanksgiving dinner or after January 10th I don't want to hear a single note of it.

Memories of long car rides through Indiana listening to The Carpenters album, then the Johnny Mathis album, and back to The Carpenters was awesome. Working a "seasonal job" with MySister when "I-I-I-I'm dreaming... of a WHITE, Christ - MAAAAAS" ranks up there high also.

Most of the time now, I cool out here in the condo to the smooth jazz sounds of the Vince Guaraldi Trio's album. Classic and timeless - and yes, I do believe that Christmas is classic and timeless.

(that last comment, of course, is removed from how much the next few weeks will have nothing do to with the holiday - the shopping, the parking, the hassles)

Christmas music, the right kind (not the fluffy 98 degrees Christmas or worse the Chipmunks), is almost a cold hard lock to place me in a great mood.

Tomorrow morning I'm presetting the non-stop holiday music channel in my car.

Hope y'all had a Happy Thanksgiving,
TQ

Generic Thanksgiving-themed sappy post:

The following is a quick - off the top of my head - dozen of what I'm thankful for:
MySister's dedication
Co-workers' laughter
The newly arrived dining room table
Quickly meeting a cool neighbor
Friends more talented than I
Recently annouced engagements*
*Standing up
Everlasting Adidas
Cheese-centric food
YouTube profile aides
Pocket Kings
Apples

Blackberry

About four years ago I made the largest purchase of my life at the time. I bought a 1999 Saturn SL2 four door automobile (with a spoiler!). Actually, there is no "about." I know it was exactly four years ago because I just recently made my last payment on the chick magnet (did I mention it has a spoiler?).

The fact that I have no more payments was confirmed yesterday during a phone call. My question was quickly followed up by a "When do I get the title!?" The last time I saw the car's title was when the Saturn dealer showed it too me after shaking my hand. I was too distracted at something listed on the title - which will be the first thing I will look at again when I receive the title in 2-4 weeks...

COLOR: Blackberry

What kind of a car color name was that? My friend drives a "Legend Lime" Mustang. I remember my Uncle buying a "Champagne" Towncar. I guess Blackberry is what you use to describe a car that looks black at night and purple during the day.

More often than once, when handing the keys to the oil change dude, I'd hesitate when responding to his question, "what color is it?" Once a guy even followed up with a "You don't know what color your car is?"

"Well... the title says blackberry... but just put down black..."

I'll tell ya one thing's for sure - as of this month, there is no red in that car at all.

Driving a Debtfreemobile (with a Spoiler!),
TQ

TQ a GQ?

Someone at work voiced displeasure at the two main choices for IL-GOV.
He asked if anybody wanted his vote?
I told him to write-in me, and I emailed him the below during lunch:

Campaign Platform:

Make "Voting Day" a state holiday, close the banks, close the schools, mandate all organizations with Illinois work tax IDs to close for the day. This will elevate the importance of the day every year (not just every four)


"Ignorance Tax" applicable to every person of voting age. Tax waived with submittal of voting receipt with prompt return of taxes (not only a money maker, but will also result in exponentially larger voter turnout like above point)


Hire more teachers and institute school uniforms state wide.


Outlaw "double-naming" of streets. All streets will have ONE NAME. None of this Lake/Euclid or Palatine/Willow.


Re-order Area Codes for phones. All pagers will have their own area code, as will cell phones. A land line to land line phone call across the street will return to a seven digit exercise.


For all future Governor Races an automatic "none of the above" will be added to the ballot. If "none of the above" receives more votes a run-off election will take place a month later with all candidates that includes candidates that campaigned in the primaries (with a month ban on ALL television advertising)


DESTORY THE SKYWAY, and sell for scrap metal. It's always under construction, it's always congested, it's way too expensive to drive on it. Use the money from the scrap metal to add extra lanes on the many other roads into Indiana.


Build 3 foot high fence along Wisconsin / Illinois stateline. Will be effective because thousands of Wisconsinites will just rub the back of their neck and say, "Yah Hey Dare's a fence over'dare?" and will be paralyzed in befuddlement.


By force, overtake cities of Davenport and Moline. We will no longer share the economic force of the quad cities with a four letter state! And if anybody doesn't think this is possible, don't forget the armory in Rock Island.


Ban all riverboat/casino gambling with the exception of the new "ill-quad". The Quad Cities will be the Mecca of the Missisip and soon take over Atlantic City as the nation's 2nd largest gaming revenue center.

LONG TERM GOAL:

Woo back the Football Cardinals back to Chicago. Build an Elk Grove stadium to house both Bears and Cardinals. Reverse all ..renovations.. to Soldier Field and make it an outdoor music/festival complex. Reassign Landmark Status.

My Mark on the World (Part 2 of 2)

The following are examples, courtesy www.widescreen.org that thoroughly showcase that when movies are formatted to "fit" your television screen, you are not seeing the entire picture:

Some of the best examples are from the Lord of The Rings trilogy:

If you turn your back on letterbox - you are turning your back on composition, intent, focus and most importantly: the truth.

My Mark On The World (Part 1 of 2)

Every once in a while a human being's life transcends his or her time on Earth.
Their impact shapes the world for the better.
Great causes or ideals are eternally liked with their name.
Like this guy:

And how this bus is linked with Rosa Parks:

These have to do with civil rights.
I want the following image shaped to me:

If you view this picture as a square with two black bars, you are in a prison without knowing. If you view this as a rectangle, you are emancipated.
For those who do not see the light, tomorrow you will be informed.
Tomorrow will hopefully be the first day in the rest of your life.

Minor Setback

After about five hours of watching Pro Basketball with "Keaton" at the Race & Sports Book of the Wynn Property, we were hungry and happy. The Heat not only covered but my over parlay hit and Keaton benefited enough from Kobe's first 70 point effort of the season to put money back into his pocket.

"Chaplin", who just game back from a journey that is worthy of its own post in the future, had no gaming interest in Pro Basketball. When he arrived we left for The Mirage, more specifically a fancy hamburger restaurant called The Carnegie Deli. This place was less famous than its NYC inspiration, and vastly less populated. We were met instantly from a 40+ year old server from Washington who, according to Chaplin -and Chaplin ONLY- told him he had "beautiful eyes." I'd still bet a few green chips that the server said no such thing.

This was not the last hearing failure of the dinner. FYI: Chaplin does not say, "What?" "Pardon me?" or "Excuse me?" when he fails to hear an audible message. With the precision of a Swiss watch he always responds, "Say again."

Keaton theorized that I was too slow in responding to the server's order cues (i.e. How do you want that cooked ? Fries or chips? etc...):

Keaton: Your ordering style is inflaming the waitress.

Chaplin: Say again.

Keaton: Tom is inflaming the waitress

Chaplin: Say again.

Keaton: Inflaming.

Chaplin: (silence)

Keaton: Do you know what inflaming means?

Chaplin: (after more silence) Gay.

TQ: (laughter) Yes, Bill, my ordering style is slowly turning our waitress into a lesbian.

Chaplin: Oh, I didn't hear the last part of that.

Keaton: No, you didn't hear the first part of that.

After we were handed the total from the server, who's sexual orientation was unknown to us, continued to stand at our table and stare us down. I think it was retribution for my slow-play of ordering, Keaton believed she was just nuts. Chaplin did not provide his theory.

Finally we threw our cash in the leather flap book and the server checked to make sure we didn't pay with Monopoly money. After she was certain it was true legal tender, the sever stood for a few beats silent and stoic. Finally she shrugged her shoulders and made an expression that read, "well... that's it."

We walked out with Keaton insisting that she was in fact nuts. 25 yards away were the Craps tables.Keaton , who might have wanted to continue his foray into "wrong betting" chose a different craps table. I decided to stick with Chaplin, who I insisted read my Craps Book when we were back at TI at the start of the day. First time craps players always seem to have better luck.

That night was the debut of my new "snap enhanced" audible shooting routine. It proved successful and Chaplin and I began to draw fans from foreign worlds. Fast forward 90 minutes later, I'm back up to shoot and have already made a point. Keaton stops by on his way out saying that he had to escape. His table had turned cold and he was next to a large boisterous man who'd yell, "MINOR SETBACK" after every failed point.

Shortly thereafter, without warning, Mirage officials close down all the craps tables. In the middle of a point. In the middle of MY POINT! Citing a "fire regulation" we all stand in limbo when all the lights in the casino go out. Less than ten seconds later I see more flashlights than an X-Files convention as everybody around me makes the worst attempt at an Oceans Eleven reference in history. After the 4 odd minutes the lights go back on and the craps table opens back up.

Gambling in a silent casino, with no slot machine noise and no background music, was the closest to a slow-motion dream sequence that I have ever experienced. The Mirage was operating on a bare bones energy grid, but that couldn't stop the game. The only thing that I could hear was the random "MINOR SETBACK" yelled from 20 feet away. I repeated that same statement in a pissed off sarcasm as I silently roll a seven minutes later.

Wanting out of that Twilight Zone I cash out and leave. The lights in the Mirage bathroom were out and the faucets had no water. When I got outside I noticed all the lights on the outside of the hotel were out, and the steady hum of generators was more chilling than the casino's silence.

I give one of the security guards outside a puzzling shrug and he assures me they are just "testing a power failure." I respond back with, "Minor setback?" The security guard nodded in approval.

One of the many stories about a First Date

Yesterday’s story made reference to the 12 month period in which only men were hitting on me. Consequently, “Miss Lifesource” sparked an epidemic of women asking me out...

It’s long been my dream to live in the fantasy world of equality among the sexes. To many this means equal wages and equal respect. To me, it means women having zero stigma asking guys out on dates and even paying for some of them… (OFFERING to pay and PAYING are two different notions).

So why did I go on so many awful first dates in the last twelve months? Because I fear that if I don’t accept a girl’s invite out to dinner it might wreck a budding social movement. But also, and maybe more importantly, a first date has the highest potential of becoming a random story…

(Originally written Sunday 1/8/2006 at 2 am)

This woman, let’s call her “Lady Luck” asked me out for coffee. Through her brilliance she was able to mutate my response of “Sure, but let me buy you the coffee” into meeting for drinks ("with possible dinner") at a fancy pants microbrewery. (the specific name of the microbrewery was called "Ram" feel free to make you own pun-based joke).

I did my usual pre-date ritual which involves the bloody shaving mishap(s) and going to the ATM. (first dates are always a cash-only operation because you do NOT want to be reminded of the event on a credit card bill).

The following are comments from Lady Luck, paired with my inner monologue response:

All of this occurred in front of a jumbo television showing an NFL playoff game I wasn't watching.

Lady Luck: “I think I parked right next to you… I’m in the Land Rover”

TQ: Even if she is about to embark on a Safari through Illinois Prairie State Parks – owning an SUV is strike one

LL: (said in a shameful tone) “I like country music”

TQ: The tone of voice means she realizes she has poor taste… This paired with the fact she likes country music is an appealed strike two

LL: “My 17 year old brother is six-two-two-ninety and has already offered to beat you up”

TQ: My sister has used a hammer on three continents

LL: “When I went backpacking through Iceland, I had a blister the size of this ashtray on my foot – wish I would’ve thought of the duct tape idea earlier”

TQ: Ok, I’m gonna save money from not buying food for myself now

LL: “Three years ago my parents bought their dream house, the one they talked about on their first date.”

TQ: We ain’t gonna be talkin’bout dream houses on THIS first date.

LL: “Your sister is seven years older than you? So were you a surprise?”

TQ: (Fuck off – strike three)

I actually responded to that last one out loud, quickly… I said it with perfect pace and precision. What I said was 100rue, “The gap only seems odd because we had a brother that died in between us, before I was born.”

I’m sure that made her feel very awkward, like she just got another ashtray sized blister, but this one was on her soul, and she deserved feeling awkward for making that statement.

There was slight talk before this night that there would be ANOTHER leg to this date to happen AFTER dinner... its why she wanted to meet at 6 pm. That never happened. And as you can tell I was glad for that part of the night to be over. After the goodbyes, I check my messages to learn of a card night developing four towns away. I call my friend Pedro back and make a beautiful (only to me) Pulp Fiction inside reference, “That’s 35 minutes away; I’ll be there in twenty."

“How'd the date go?” the nine other players asked. "Great, I'm here now." Less than three hours later, WINNING the first tournament the person that came in second place said to me, "Man, that was a great date... too bad I'm married."

I've had so many diffrent kinds of first dates, but this is a new one... Starting the day with the usual bleed and withdraw, to end it on a profit is beyond belief.

EPILOGUE:

I went out with Lady Luck one more time. Not only because first dates are always awful, but also because she indirectly helped me fall into a large payday… However, it wasn’t just a “bad first date” as there was no real spark.

Giving Blood

I like giving blood. If you take all the actual masochists and cutters out of the search, you'll have a tough time finding someone who likes to give blood (or as often) as I.

It caters to my duality at its core... Acting immature in a mature way... Actually enjoying the juice and cookies earned from a very unselfish act... However laying on top of all this is the metaphysics confirming that because I delight in the unselfish act, it ceases to be purely unselfish.

And of course, giving blood gives me yet another opportunity to interact with strangers. The following is a short true occurrence from a couple visits ago to Lifesource, the state of Illinois blood donating facility:

(Originally written 9/13/2005)

I am not really good at this, but I'm 72% sure that Miss Lifesource was hitting on me, and wanted more than my blood.

Number one, she insisted on grabbing my thigh to "steady" the paper she was writing whatever bloodsuckers have to write on top of me.

She was literally sweating, saying she was nervous and faked calling in another tech to make the needle stick, saying she "didn't ever want to hurt me" but then said, "I'll treat you well" as she did it. Later she was really pressuring me into "making a date" to come back "because she wanted to make sure she'd be working that day.

Anyways, I was happy to break my current streak of only getting hit on by men in the past 12 months.

Oh by the way, this flirty blood girl had a glass eye.

The Apprentice Casting Call

(The following is the un-abridged journal of my attempt to get on The Apprentice. This took place on 2/19/2005, when I was between jobs)

I was planning the whole routine a week in advance... The night before I purposely slept only two hours, which allowed me to hit sleep hard at 3 pm.

3 PM: Fall asleep

12 AM: Awake

1 AM: Meal

2 AM: Shower/Prep

3 AM: Depart from home

3:30 AM: Arrive at CTA station River Road

4:15 AM: Streets of Chicago

It was the only time Chicago felt like Milwaukee. There was NOBODY on the streets. You look in all directions and nobody is around. I stood at the corner of Michigan and Wacker - looking at the Wrigley building and thought of er scenes - nobody was in eyeshot.

4:30 AM: Arrive at NBC Tower

Walking up to it from its west side, I don't see anybody, I walk around to its east side and see about 75 people already in line. I was expecting about 200. Thankfully my spot was near a garden box and I had a place to sit.

It was rather cold, but with the exception of my frozen feet, I was fine.

Characters:

Martha: Not there for "The Donald." I learn that The Apprentice Open Casting Call is for BOTH the Trump Apprentice and the new Martha Stewart The Apprentice. Martha is in her early fifties, a smoker, and very outgoing and funny. She and her friend, Kim, drove down from Detroit for this special event. They arrived about fifteen minutes before me.

Linda (Martha wannabe) - 2nd grade gym teacher - non-descript but nice

Brian: (Trump candidate). A non-descript young man. He's 23, already married, already in a job he hates. Went to Indiana State University and lives in downtown Arlington Heights. He didn't have anything to add to any conversation. He was wearing dress shoes and pants, a button down shirt and tie. His leather jacket was not doing the warmth job and was bitching a lot. Martha and Kim finally gave him one of their MANY blankets to warm him. Martha and Kim also had gallons of water and their own fold out chairs.

The Mafia: (All Trumps). Three people who all knew each other arrived about fifteen minutes after I did. All very well dressed. One girl and two men, none of them over the age of 28. Talked a lot of business... Boring

Mafia-attachment (Trump). A 40 year old woman (she said her age) that didn't look a day over 30. This very well dressed Wrigley woman (I know because she wouldn't shut up about how close she lives to the park) bonded with the Mafia and participated in their many runs to Starbucks. Thankfully she steered the all business talk to reality TV and it made my conversations with the mafia worthwhile.

Madison Morons (1/2 Trump, 1/2 clueless). Bryan and Sidney. These two young twentysomethings (not college age) were making a weekend out of this deal. They arrived in the city last night and got a hotel room. I don't know when they got there because the 23 year old Brian was holding their space since before I got there. Bryan was wearing business casual sweater and kakis and Sydney was wearing jeans. I must've personally saw Sidney spend 50 dollars in the form of three different cab rides to and from our line and Starbucks goods. Supposedly he went back to his hotel room on two occasions to warm up. I think he went to his hotel room to smoke up. Sidney did not have an application and therefore was just there for the ride.

Dennis (aka Cowboy - due to the fedora he wore). This guy was an all-star. Most enjoyable person of the experience. This guy worked the line like an Al Roker wannabe. He must've walked up and down the line - telling us our place and how many people were behind us ten times. He was wearing Jeans and when Martha asked him why he's not wearing a suit he said, "I'm a Martha. I can't help it?" I really hope this guy makes the Martha Stewart show.

ME: I'm wearing black shoes, gray pants, and my black "Employee of the Month" shirt. Most people thought I was an NBC plant because of my casual attire and because I was participating in about three conversations at the same time. I just told them that I didn't want to be a lemming and wear a suit like everybody else.

7 PM On one of Dennis' frequent trips he tells us of the information he got when he first got here. Dennis got here at 6:30 last night and is #2 in line overall. He tells us that the WRISTBANDS wont' be handed out until 9 am (an hour later than I thought) and that the interviews will start at 10. He also said that they are only handing out 200 wristbands.

The 200 number shocked me because I thought there would be more - I was very confident I was in the first 100, so it didn't worry me.

9:15 AM: The hot apprentice girls (I call'em hot because every body with an Apprentice badge was overtly attractive) pass out the WRISTBANDS. I've been typing that in all caps because it was THE hot word of the past 3 hours. It was all about the WRISTBANDS! We gotta get the WRISTBANDS!

10:20 AM: The doors open and we enter the NBC Tower lobby - we wait in the long serpentine line that usually holds the Jerry Springer crowd. There is a large metal detector at the end of the line. As soon as we gather in line indoors myself, Martha, Kim and Linda peel off our layers and get themselves ready. I stash my sweatshirt and jacket in the backpack to have a full display of my Employee of the Month shirt. It got many compliments and smiles and several conversations with the hot apprentice girls. Martha and Kim did a near 180 of appearance as they adorned their Martha type Armour of hand crafted jewelry and crazy sweater knit combinations.

11:00 AM: After an elevator ride and a couple more lines to stand through I'm brought into a room about the size of a Marquette classroom. There are three large tables and I sit at one of them. It is a large square with me and 11 other people around three sides and a casting director woman at the fourth side. All the people described above are at the table (with the exception of Sydney who got his application-less ass bounced at the table). Even the "Marthas" are at the table.

The casting director asks us to say our name, age, where we are from and what we do.

After two blah blah forgettable introductions it is my turn,

"Hey my name is Tom, I'm 26, unemployed, and live in my parents' basement."

Huge laughter from everybody including the casting director.

The first question is asked - it is not important what it was, what is important is that 11 other voices just amp up and give their answer. No one is heard and I just sit back and make my comment at the very end when everybody finally shut up at the casting director's request.

The casting director then started a "one at a time around the table policy" Another meaningless question is asked and there are no memorable responses. Actually, the question was about if you would tell a prospective employer if you were having a baby during an interview. I said that if I was asked that question I would walk out, for it is unethical. I've been in intrusive situations and I wouldn't want that again. Somebody retorted, "so what if you boss asked you know if you wanted kids, would you walk away from the job." I quickly responded with my arm up on the table and a game show like voice, "did I mention I was unemployed?" (more laughter).

The last question is to name somebody at the table (not yourself and not the casting director) who would be the project manager of the group. nobody said me, which pissed me off. Three people said Linda, and I didn't know what the hell these people were thinking of that dumb gym teacher martha'wannabe. Looking back, I shouldn't have taken the guy that made the smart-alecky comment about my boss. I should've picked one of the Marathas because I'm not competing with them. However, I picked the other guy because he was also wearing a t-shirt - so I wanted to compliment him on that, and draw more attention to my own shirt - which got me more laughs. Someone in the group actually called me, "what do you think employee of the month" during this table session.

11:30 AM: I walk out of the NBC Tower, walk back to the CTA station, drive back home in my car.

12:30 PM: Arrive back home Ive yet to be called back.

I get my head examined

(from the pre-blog archive: 9/23/2005)

Thursday 8 pm (Arlington Heights Park District Men's Basketball League)

A competitor was driving to the hoop, and jumps to attempt a lay-up. Meanwhile I am slid over to take a charge call (which I got!) Unfortunately, what also happened was his lead shoulder jumping right into me, landing below my right eye.

As the lemming subscriber to an HMO plan, I do the "economical" thing of driving myself home, icing half my face... The next morning schedule a doctor's appointment for 1pm.

Friday 1:45 pm (Primary Care Physician's office)

My doctor finally sees my face, I have a good relationship with him and I know him outside his white coat... he tells me that I'm going be fine, and if I was being paid millions of dollars he'd throw a face mask on me and I'd be back playing in 4-8 weeks) He says he's very confident that I have broken bones, and I'll need an x-ray... he will give me a referral to go get an x-ray

Friday 3:30 pm (Lutheran General Hospital radiology) After handing my HMO card and photo ID to everybody but the janitor I'm finally getting X-Rays

Friday 4:00 pm (L.G.H. radiology waiting room) the receptionist of the waiting room says I have a phone call, its my Primary Care Physician, he says the X-Rays came back negative but said, "I saw your face, I know its broken, I'm sending you to a specialist"

Friday 4:20 pm (L.G.H. third floor:) the receptionist at the specialists office asks me if I have a referral. I call the Primary Care Physician's office, after holding for 15 minutes, I ask for the referral.

Friday 5 pm (The Specialist's office)

The specialist looks at feels around my face and instantly says I have an orbital (eye socket) and zygomatic (cheek bone) fracture. He says the orbital fracture will heal on its own, but the cheek bone has shifted and is now blocking my jaw muscle. (since Thursday I have been unable to open my mouth wide enough to slide solid food between my teeth, but can thankfully still talk). The following is a WORD FOR WORD account of the dialogue

Dr. "we will have to make an incision inside your upper lip, set the bone back, and use a titanium plate to put it back together and keep it in place

TQ: "will this plate come out after its set?"

Dr. "no"

TQ: "so you are saying that I will literally have a metal plate in my head for the rest of my life?"

Dr. "yeah, but its small"

TQ: "will it set off metal detectors in airports?"

Dr. "I don't know."

Let me just tell you that "I don't know" is not the best phrase to hear from a doctor you met less than a half hour ago who will soon be operating on your face.

Friday 5:30 pm (L.G.H. radiology)

I hand them a referral for the Cat Scan that the surgeon will need. The receptionist asks me if the CT is "contrast or non-contrast?" I tell them to call upstairs... the receptionist tells me their office is closed and the phone went to voicemail

Friday 5:45 pm (LGH radiology)

After I go back to the third floor, bang on the locked door, find out the answer, I'm back downstairs and tell the receptionist that "non contrast" is always the case unless otherwise notified.

Friday 6:15 pm (LGH)

I finally walk out of the building, catscan done but no surgery scheduled because the surgery scheduler left for the weekend at 4:30. The burden is now on me to call the planner to schedule my own surgery.

----

This story perfectly describes my current situation. I am not in pain but perpetual discomfort. I don't know when the operation will be yet, but I was told about half the people spend the night in the hospital and take the next two days off work. Supposedly post surgery involves a lot of swelling and more vicadin.

I hope you got a smile from this story, as my friend told me this weekend, "Tom, I don't feel bad or sorry for you because I'm too busy laughing at your jokes."